The journey back to The Sodden Sailor by use of Olluc's Dinghy was just as uneventful and almost as quiet as the journey to the chapel; Soglash seemed to have a way of inflicting melancholy and uneasiness on a person. The group tied the boat back up to the support beam below the tavern - noticing that Balic was no longer hanging from a rope; presumably he was cut free and let go, carrying his shame with him.Atacuso helped Korchel out of the dinghy, the dwarf still not in great shape from the ordeal in the chapel, and the companions made their way up and into the door of 'Ruses Boozes'.

When entering, Olluc snorted awake; it was now closer to sunrise than sunset and the grizzled sailor had fallen asleep in front of the coals while waiting to see if the group would return. The rest of the patrons had left and it seemed the tavern was empty, but after a few seconds, Cassa's curious face peeked out from the doorway behind the bar."Ah! Yeh've made it back, I see!" Olluc got to his feet, rubbing his sore leg before limping over to Helgkhor, "And here be yer coin back. Aye trust the dinghy be back down below, hmn?" The tavern owner passed the coin back which the barbarian earlier gave him for use of the small boat, then eyed all of them up and down, frowning heavily at the sight of the dwarf."Yer all beat up, lads. You, especially, dwarf! Rest here a while, No," Olluc shook a hand at Helgkhor as he began to protest; eager to get on the road, "Aye demand it! Aye will not have word going out that some poor sods died on the road after staying at The Sodden Sailor! Besides, yeh'll go faster rested up anyways." He nodded to the group, "There be some stew left in the pot if yeh're hungry still, just warm it up on the coals. The beds are made and warm - just don't use that one room upstairs; window's still broke! CASSA!"The serving girl yelped and scurried into the room at Olluc's call, "Cassa, find some bandages for these poor souls, would yeh? I'll get yeh to wrap 'em up good!"Cassa nodded, "Yes Olluc! Aye'll be right back, nkay?" She then disappeared out the back once more. "She's a good girl - lost her parents to this d**nable town so I let her stay here in exchange fer helping out with the tavern. Like a daughter, she be."Cassa returned with her arms full of dressings and linen wraps, "Who's first?" She beamed with wide smile.

Just nudged the game ahead a bit, to a more comfortable setting than the chapel. If there's anything else you gents still wanted to do back there, feel free to post it anyway and i'll adjust my next posts accordingly to address it all.

Aredhel sat down, far less pummeled than the rest, and began to write while Cassa attended to the wounded.After all, he was abandoning his post, and a spy must report in, yes?Elven script flowed as decoration over the parchment as he penned down what had to be known back in Twyrlandir.

"Dearest Elensefar,

May you blossom as rime upon a breath-covered pane,and your wisdom be enriched by what I have learned.

The Favorim of the isles, the bride of the Weeping God, was deprived of her place by force, that force being the Shadow Cultists of the Originators. What their name entails is clear for their first part, for they have mastered shadows, and the shade walks as their thrall. The second part is obscure, but supposed to be a world-ending force still asleep. The truth of this claim I could not ascertain, for cults believe their idols to be universally more powerful than reality reveals.

She was sent to The Dragon Mines of Vartanadel, to be held there for reason unknown, on the 13th of Ifirn, which is four days hence. I shall abandon Soglash as of today, and follow in her wake; this is a matter of greater import than this perpetual kettle of wanton murder and breaking timber.

Mellon min, minithilAredhel, a wanderer, formerly of Dol Lothanna"

He proceeded to Olluc, and handed him the sealed writing along with coin: "There shall come Nalthinisse, with the silver tresses, the one you asked whether the proper address would be 'sir' or 'dame'. Please give my friend my writing, so that I am not missed."

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

Atacuso plopped himself onto one of the bar stools. "Hey Olluc, you wanna buy dis brew off me?" he asked, producing the wine bottle he'd acquired in the chapel and nearly slamming it onto the bar with gusto. "Looks like a fine vintage, she does." He rapped the bar with his knuckle. "How about nine sovereigns and some shots of blackmud?"

While Olluc busied himself, Atacuso sat back and took it all in, his face beaming. The ranger was quite pleased with himself! This was the most excitement he'd had in a while - it certainly beat spearfishing gators and selling the hides to mostly poor Kazan refugees. It occurred to him that he could make a tidy living this way.

The half-elf pulled at the chain of the amulet he'd found. Having little real metalcraft beyond tools and copper in the Moor, he was fond of the silver's shine and had already taken to wearing the trinket. He played the emblem in the light, watching it gleam. "What you tink dat is dere?" he asked aloud, trying to get a better look at the emblem.

Helgkhor thanks Cassa as she uses up the last of her bandages to wrap the giant's wounds, and eats his stew in silence. He examines his new-found short-sword and decides it will make a good new dagger, so he sheathes it. The dagger he offers to Atacuso, mentioning "I've never seen its kind" to the half-elf's question regarding his own shiny trinket, then approaches Aredhel.

"This cloak i found in the chapel. Is it magical? It seems--different."

Awaiting the elf's words of wisdom, Helgkhor stretches his massive form, scar tissue and new wounds straining the flesh, and adds to everyone, "Let us set mind to purpose. Every hour that passes counts. Soon, we should continue the hunt. I have heard of these Dragon Mines, but have never set foot in Vartanadel."

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

"Helgkhor, considering that you are most dedicated and thus most vital to the rescue of the Favorim, I think it's wise for you to wear it!"The barbarian gave the elf a long look of incredulity as he held up the miniscule (in comparison) cloak, brown embroidered wool and fur collar notwithstanding."This?""Yes!" he laid it across the northman's shoulders - it barely reached half down his back, and to the biceps on the side... and then began to flow like water, running down, expanding, fitting itself to the giant's frame as if by the hands of invisible seamstresses."Good enough?" Carus hopped across the table, eyed Helgkhor with one beady eye, then the other. "Good enough.""It should protect you from mishaps and spells... somewhat! Please maintain the regular degree of suspicion and care."

« Last Edit: March 13, 2013, 07:25:12 AM by EchoMirage »

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

Korchel remained quiet as Cassa wrapped his injuries first; the Dwarf had a lot taken out of him, and was in no mood to interact heavily.

Aredhel walked to Olluc after writing his letter out "There shall come Nalthinisse, with the silver tresses, the one you asked whether the proper address would be 'sir' or 'dame'. Please give my friend my writing, so that I am not missed."

Olluc nodded and grinned, "Aye, I remember the er... individual yeh speak of! I'll make sure it gets ta Nalthinisse!" The grizzled man took the coin and letter; they both disappeared within the folds of his clothes. "Now, master Milarien; I insist yeh go and catch a sleep!"The elf agreed with Olluc, nodding to the man and making his way to the stairs - but not before pausing by Atacuso to take a look at the necklace and emblem he held. "Ah yes, that's the sign of Hecuta. I've heard of it before; They are quite common in the southern parts of Decathros, but haven't really caught a foothold up here. They try to spread their cause around as much as they can. Obviously they underestimated Soglash!" Aredhel took a close look at the necklace, "I believe these are given out to their missionary clerics; they use it as proof of membership to other Hecutans."Aredhel nodded once, then turned to retire upstairs. There was a long journey ahead of them, and they couldn't oversleep or they would lose valuable time!

Helgkhor ran his hand over his new cloak, which had altered to fit his size. "Sorcery!" he whispered harshly, but this time in a somewhat impressed tone. The cloak was warm and sturdy, and felt like it was tough as sturdy leather. The barbarian made his way to Olluc. "Tell me; what is the fastest way down to Vartanadel?"The tavern owner's eyes widened, "Vartanadel!? That's quite a distance to travel! Well, there be the main road which is safer; it winds through the hills and mountains towards the south, but it do be taking nearly five full days travel to the border!" Olluc paused and drummed his fingers against his arm in thought, "Well, there do be another way to go. 'ttle take only two, maybe three days to the border. There be a road going along the coast. T'aint used much anymore because there be rumors that it be haunted, y'see. But 'ts def'nitely the fastest!""Then that's the way we will go! Time is critical!""Alright. Yeh be careful on that road, y'hear! Keep yeh're wits about yeh!"

Cassa had finished patching everyone up and was cleaning the mess made with soapy water in a wooden bucket. Korchel had fallen asleep in front of the fire already, leaning back heavily in the chair he was in. Atacuso had followed Aredhel upstairs to a bed of his own not long after the elf had retired; though he had managed to sell the wine to Olluc for ten gold bits. Even Olluc was settled in back in his own chair in front of the fire, his thoughts his own. Helgkhor's mind was buzzing; he did not feel tired - only eager to continue the hunt. He sat down on the wooden floor, in front of the fire and got to cleaning his greatsword. But dispite his stubbornness, sleep eventually claimed the warrior.

The group was awake only an hour after dawn. They had breakfasted quickly and left the inn together. Olluc was kind enough to supply them with several days of rations, as well as a small package full of premium dried meats for Carus. On the way out of town, Helgkhor and Aredhel stopped off at a stall on the main pier of Soglash, pawning their unwanted items. Aredhel's smooth words saw him come out with forty pieces of gold for his handaxe and citrine - easily what they were worth. Helgkhor was not so sweet with his sale, but still came out with twenty bits for the dagger, shortsword and dress clothes.

Horses in Soglash were a valuable commodity and were out of the group's price range. As such, they took to the road on foot, gladly leaving the sodden town behind.

The road along the coast lifted the companions' spirits considerably. The mist had disappated for the day, and brilliant sunlight shone colors most spectacular along the writhing waters of the spiked sea. Far away over the sea, a storm roiled, creating dramatic lightning plays and quiet peals of thunder which only just reached them as a bass rumbling. For the entire day the party travelled, Helgkhor moving them at a fast pace. They stopped twice for a rest, once in a small, old campsite where Atacuso cooked a hare which he had slain with an arrow along the road. The second stop was under a shady willow where they engaged in small-talk, wherein Helgkhor regaled stories of hunting along the coasts of Twyrlandir. Atacuso had not yet talked to Aredhel about his elven lineage, and was now unsure as how to approach the subject to the Wizard. As such, the questions went unasked for now.As they left this willow, Korchel pointed out to the sea once more, "Tha' storm looks like it's changed direction, lads! We may be gettin' wet tonight!"

True enough, within two hours - just as dusk was beginning - the first drops of rain began to fall; the sun was now completely blotted out, and soon the companions moods dampened. Dispite the adverse conditions, none really felt like stopping; they continued on their journey as darkness surrounded. Finally, the four men reached the top of a large rise. They paused at the peak of this rise, looking down at the expanse before them. Olluc had never mentioned THIS!

Ship Graveyard

Before them lay a massive expanse of broken ships and rotting wood - it seemed like it went for several miles in the distance, and the road passed straight through it. There was no way around, and backtracking would take far too long. The only way was through this mess. With a worried glance at one another, they trekked forth once more.

Into the graveyard they went. The road was lined with occasional torches at times; although who or what lit these could not be known. There were large expanses of darkness and twisting, confusing dirt paths however. It would be easy for anyone to get lost in here, and in fact, if not for Atacuso's tracking skills, they may have found themselves wandering off the beaten path and becoming lost.

Only an hour had they been within the maze-like walls of the ship graveyard, when abruptly Atacuso let out a little 'yelp!'; up ahead on the path a lone figure moved, shambling forward through the mist towards the party. As the figure approached the mists parted. And there before them stood an eerie sight;It was tall and thin, and heavily robed. An intricate mask of wood hid any facial features of this person and the hood of the robe was pulled over the head. All that could be seen were beady eyes from behind the mask and thin, ragged bony arms ending in fragile hands. The figure's skin was almost -too- white, and abruptly a ragged, rasping cough exploded out from behind the mask.

Truly a haunting figure stood before them, in the middle of the night in this ship-graveyard where imaginations and fears run unfettered.

under the shady willow tree"Baymares? Nay, they were not the worst of it along the icy coasts, friend Korchel. The Snowtusker, now that was an opponent!" Helgkhor rises from his seat excited, "This scar", he pulls back his hood, and traces his finger along the jawline to his chin, and up the cheek, "was from a Snowtusker's long tooth. I mounted the white-devil and was about to bash its skull in, but the treacherous beast bolted toward the open sea! I rode him out for four miles before he finally sank when I ripped the gills from..."

-----

Helgkhor pulls the cowl over his head as the rain hammers down. Silently, he surveys the eerie scene before him. It seems to go on forever in each direction. So much devastation, he thinks to himself. Is this where all the ships end up that get blown off course by Shagaar's black breath? He remembers a tale his father once told him, of a ship's graveyard haunted by the spirits of those who once sailed the broken vessels. Scared of ghosts, the giant albino suddenly shudders involuntarily, but stays silent. No matter what lies before him, he has given his word. He will deliver the Favorim or die in the attempt.

For once, he is unsure of himself, but stumbles forward drawing his new cloak about him, careful not to slip on the rain-slicked, algae-riddled, road.

-----

As the figure nears, Helgkhor stops and immediately withdraws his massive blade from its sheath. "Lo, there do I see a grave-spirit!" he bellows loudly over the sound of hammering rain, remembering his father's words...ghosts and the walking dead fear loud noises.

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

"Not a spirit, you say. Aye, perhaps not. No spirit would have a water-logged, ring-eyed rat for a minion!" Sword still drawn, nerves settling, Helgkhor laughs loudly at the raccoon, the sound akin to gargling glass, then turns to his companions, "Shall we speak with...him?"

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

"Why not indeed? We might learn what he is and what he knows - and if he turns out to be any combination of grave and/or spirit, we will be on the same footing as now" he smiled. "Hail, sodden wanderer! Let's talk and be sodden together."Carus was perched atop the elf's backpack, and tilted his head: "Sick he is, soon dead. The raccoon thinks he's his, but then, raccoons are known for folly!"

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

Metandris has been roused from a nap by Troon, who had sensed the strangers approach. After expelling a half-lungs worth of guck, he had gotten up and affixed his mask as was proper. Dreams of gold and cures had been dispelled by raccoon chitter, and sniffling nose.

----

Metandris smiled at the elf's words, though none could see it. He even found the crow's presence reassuring to a deg

"This way, friends," gestured the Druid, pointing to a nearby wreck.

Somehow underneath the ribs of what might have been a merchant ship the druid had a small fire sputtering but produced little smoke.

"Unlike others, this one is small, and ... unoccupied. I have heard odd noises in the night that I've left as mysteries. Pull up a seat," Metandris gestured towards a haphazard pile of buckets in the corner.

Metandris seated himself close to the little fire, pulled out what appeared to be a rolled, dried leaf, lit it and brought it up to his mask. Where he put the leaf was not clear, but moments later small curls of smoke came out the mask's vents and eye holes.

"Ah, better. My name is Mitandris of Lasadria, a province in Kelevest. I am a forestwalker, though I currently walk in the bones of many forests here. Who might you be?"

"I am Helgkhor, called the Shadow of Death. We seek passage to Vartanadel."

Helgkhor's eyes widen as he watches the smoke seep from the mask's vents. He then rises and casts glances all about the rain-drenched graveyard of broken ships. Withdrawing his blade again, the barbarian moves away from the meager fire, toward the edge of the rib-awning, and pulls the cowl over his head to keep the rain at bay.

"Odd noises, you say? I shall guard us from any surprises, while you...talk."

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

"Well met, Helghkor, Shadow of Death. An auspicious name. As for talking, I'm afraid I must ... pace ... myself," said Metandris, " for speaking overlong is a bit uncomfortable, and noisy. But yes, odd noises. The sound of dry bones clanking, more then once. Hints of laughter another. "

"So, what is the reason for our little chat? General congeniality, or the need to confer vital knowledge? For example, have you seen a band of dark-clad men passing through, abducting a woman no less?"He smiled, but before waiting for the man's labored answer, added: "Also, what is your reason for staying in this haunted locale?"

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

"For rather banal reasons, I'm afraid. Gold to pay for a cure for my damaged lungs. I had it on good authority that these wrecks were not completely picked over.

During my search, I have found naught but some serviceable bric-brac. Perhaps deeper in the wrecks where the bones rattle might be better pickings, but that's too risky for one such as I.

Regarding dark-clad men, apart from myself , I have only seen one carriage pass through, four days past. They were in a frightful hurry and nearly ran me down. The weather was a little better then, so I expect they made good time - if they did not kill their horses in their mad rush.

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

He looked out warily - he had no intent of battling the walking dead, to be honest, and eager to be on his way."A matter of sheer curiosity, though - what is there in Kelevest to damage the lungs of a woodsman as you so severely? If you forgive me for intruding, of course."

Logged

"Captain, the buttocks are moving from the pink into the red and purple spectrum! We cannot maintain this rate of spanking any longer!"

"Some nameless plague, long since run its course. I was never gifted with heartiness, and three winters past the Spirits nearly took me. Time has not healed this wound, nor the prayers of the strongest of my circle."

Atacuso nodded. "We get de lungrot in de Bayou now an' again," he sympathized. "Dey say only de most powerful of de blue magics can heal it." He looked around, as though to make sure no one else was listening, then said in a quiter voice, "Some even say only de red magics can fix it." The ranger nodded slowly, as though checking Metandris recognized the reference.

"Oh," he said suddenly, extending a hand, "Atacuso. I hunt. You say you walk de woods? Ever visit Swynmoor?"

Mitandris takes Atacuso's hand and shakes it. While thin, his grip is strong.

"No, I'm afraid. Until most recently, I had not left Kelevest.

Vartanadel you say?", turning to Ardhel. "I have had enough of picking through this mess and a city that old must have good libraries. With your leave, I would like to accompany you at least that far. While it might seem, ironic",cough,"I have some facility with healing.."

Helgkhor thinks back to Cassa and her never-ending supply of bandages. Healing? We lack a healer.

He turns around again to watch the smoke stream from the man's spooky wooden mask as he speaks, then glances at Metandris' dying fire...

"Dwarf-friend Korchel here, can speak with smoke and fire. And smoke and fire speak back to him." Helgkhor announces suddenly to Metandris, then to Korchel, "Have you taken this man's measure yet? What say you Korchel?" He asks the quiet yet always simmering dwarf.

To Metandris: "Accompany us...but can you keep up? We chase the carriage that almost ran you down..."

PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p

"Yes, I can keep up so long as you are not planning on running the miles away." said Metandris.

He bent over the small fire and pulled away the larger portions of wood, casting them out into the rain, until all that remained of the fire was a small ember. He reached into his pocket and pulled a small portion of dry bark and dropped it onto the remaining embers. It flared up briefly and left dull ash in its wake.

Korchel had been silent through much of the conversation with the sickly druid. He watched the tendrils of smoke play across the grooves and curves of his mask; they were not giving anything away in their writhing path. Finally, he shrugged and looked to Helgkhor, "This is not something I can advise on."The conversation ended when Atacuso suggested moving on, and once Metandris had tended to the remains of the fire the gathering left the shelter, back into the cold rain.

The hours drew on as the companions made their way through the ship graveyard - not far after Metandris's campsite, the path had disappeared to nearly nothing, oftentimes forcing the companions to guess at which way to continue - but always they found themselves going east, and finding their path once again.The first corpse was spotted about two hours along the road. Atacuso had noticed it first, up ahead half sunken in a large puddle. It was little more than a skeleton with rags, partially submerged in mud and water - it had definitely been there for some time. Decades, at least! There was little that could be done with the remains, and they held nothing of value so the group did the only thing they could: They continued on.

The deeper into the graveyard they went, the more of these skeletons they found. Evidently the various crew members of the myriad ships which dotted this land. Aredhel made an observation out loud; "It's strange... These ships. They are not from one fleet. Indeed, they are not even from one time! This one, here," The Wizard pointed out a massive barge of tarred oak and towering masts, "This appears to be of the Kelevestian make; some decades old, I would say! But this one..." Aredhel indicated another, smaller wooden ship somewhat further inland with a sweep of his hand, "I am not sure, but from my readings, that seems to be of Hypoten origin. Now, Hypoten hasn't made vessels large enough to traverse that kind of distance since before they closed their borders, I do not think. It would have to be several centuries old at least!" Aredhel peered at the Hypoten vessel for a while longer before continuing on, "Curious..." He would have loved to study it, but time was an issue.

Helgkhor shuddered - this whole place felt wrong to him. Not to mention the fact that he was cold and miserable, and the cloak he had - though magical - did not seem to be too effective at staving off the soaking rain which seemed to chill to the core. still, he trudged through the land as quick as he could, setting the pace for the rest of the group. Helgkhor and indeed the rest of the companions had soon found out what Metandris had meant by odd sounds in the night: through the patter of the rain, the creaking of movements and scurrying within the ships could sometimes be heard. whispers floated in the air and occasionally rodent-like screeching could be heard. Orange eyes could be seen reflecting from the hulls of some boats, disappearing abruptly whenever one of the men turned to watch them.

Finally, after what seemed to be an endless night, the party came upon a large line of giant vessels crushed up one against the other in a wide corridor of a hundred feet across. And there, rising up in the distance was a steep rise which led up to a hilly horizon just barely visible in the rainy night, no more than perhaps a couple of miles away; the end of the boat-pile was near! Into the Corridor they went.(rolls) The companions kept a wary eye on the sides of the ships, but little of detail could be spotted through the rain and darkness, even for the elves' keen senses. After twenty minutes of their cautious pace, Helgkhor spied something odd up ahead on the road. "Hold! What is that...?"It was another corpse, about forty yards away; this one propped up in a seated position by a rocky protrusion from the ground behind it. What struck the party as odd, was that this skeleton still had all it's belongings. A fully matched suit of what appeared to be a Military or Naval uniform, worn much away by time. A well-crafted rapier sat next to it's hand, as well as a long dagger on the other side. What appeared to be a small strong-box lay under the skeleton's right hand -the fingers clasped firmly around it.

His inner fires muted by the relentlessly gloomy weather, Korchel had been nearly silent these last few hours. His only words had been quietly muttered incantations meant to keep the rain from extinguishing his pipe. Catching sight of the well-equipped remains ahead, he whispered a raspy warning. "Stand fast! In this realm of the watery dead, the living can expect a cold welcome!"Studying the corpse as best he can without approaching, Korchel will ready his sling.